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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197537">A Mask of Frost - A Series of Drabbles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailbabel/pseuds/hailbabel'>hailbabel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harlots (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, Gen, prompt: frost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:01:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28197537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailbabel/pseuds/hailbabel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte encounters an enigmatic woman and is struck by her beauty, her elegance, and an unshakable coldness that surrounds her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harlots Drabbles</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Mask of Frost - A Series of Drabbles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Each of these five drabbles is meant to be able to stand alone, but together they tell the story of how Charlotte may have encountered Lady Isabella multiple times before we get to meet her in season 2. Not quite AU, but rather canon-adjacent as I see these little scenes as fitting in to random places throughout the first series. The idea came from a user on Tumblr whos post I can't find just now, but if you recognise the premise, or if that user was you, please do reach out so I can give proper credit!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Charlotte belted a “hah!” as she laid down her cards and all of the men at the table groaned. She’d won the pot, again. Just as she was congratulating herself with a healthy swig of wine and thinking that perhaps she wouldn’t have to tup anyone at all tonight, a woman entered the Cocoa Tree, and with her came a cold feeling quite at odds with the sultry summer evening. She was tall, and elegant, with a face as pale as porcelain. What struck Charlotte, however, were her eyes. Blue as blue could be, and cold -- Charlotte shivered -- as frost.</span>
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  <span>Charlotte was on the arm of George Howard, her latest prey. He was dull and foppish, and complained about his wife too much, but he was easy to manipulate. All she had to do was tempt him with a bit of cunny. That was how she’d got him to take her shopping, even. But she wasn’t looking at the wares just now, or even at Howard. She was looking at the woman who had just drifted in, her gait as elegant as snowfall. She didn’t know her name, but she didn’t need to. She would know that chill gaze anywhere.</span>
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  <span>Charlotte slammed the door to her Ma’s house and stomped down the street in great strides, meaning to get as far away from the house as possible. Somehow, her conversations with her Ma always ended in shouting, and both of them burning with anger. She was still aflame when a carriage sloshed by in the rain-soaked street. She only just managed to avoid being splashed in its wake. Looking up, she felt her anger snuff out with the hiss of flame smothered by water as she caught the gaze of the woman inside, her face a mask, pale and cold.</span>
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  <span>Charlotte entered the estate with head held high, pretending that she belonged here. She had been sent by Lydia Quigley to blackmail one Isabella Fitzwilliam, a woman, Charlotte was told, with a terrible secret. She had never met this woman, wouldn’t know her from Eve, so a little blackmail should have been an easy thing, right? Why then did it make her insides go cold? Why then did she have to harden her heart to the idea of extorting a grandee for a bit of money? And why did her every breath chill her, as if her insides were ice?</span>
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  <span>Charlotte had not been expecting to see a familiar face tonight. She had not been expecting to see those eyes, blue as blue could be, or that crisp, careful mask. The woman before her was imperious and stiff, her limbs held at careful angles, her pale fingers clasped before her. And when she spoke, it was with an icy hostility that made Charlotte wish for a good, warm cloak. The rest of the room was alight with the warm, golden glow of firelight, but it didn’t extend to the woman before her. No, Isabella Fitzwilliam herself was cold as frost.</span>
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